"So do I," said John.
Rather a longer silence.
"And—and oh, John! Don't you see how wretched, how foolish it is, our being on these absurd formal terms? Have you forgotten what friends we used to be? I have not. It makes me angry still when I think how you have taken yourself away for nothing, and how all the pleasure is gone out of meeting you or talking to you. I don't think you half knew how much I liked you."
"Di," said John, stopping short, and facing her with indignation in his eyes, "I desire that you will never again tell me you like me. I really cannot stand it. Let us go back to the ball-room."
CHAPTER XIII.
"Ah, man's pride
Or woman's—which is greatest?"
E. B. Browning.
"